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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227978">No Other Version of Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayyylmao/pseuds/Jayyylmao'>Jayyylmao</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst with a Happy Ending, Bar &amp; Bat Mitzvah, Cute, Fluff, Gay Richie Tozier, Gay Stanley Uris, Light Angst, M/M, Richie Tozier &amp; Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier is a Good Friend, Soft Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris-centric, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Stanley Uris, Transphobia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:06:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227978</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayyylmao/pseuds/Jayyylmao</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Most kids look forward to their Bar/Bat Mitzvah.<br/>For Stan Uris, it was going to be one of the worst days off his life thus far.<br/>Between family he hasn't seen in years, reading from a book he hardly followed, and to top it off, heaving parents that didn't care of he 'thought' he was a boy, things were going to go downhill fast.<br/>That is, until his best friend shows up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Other Version of Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <span>No Other Version of Me</span>
</h3>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go take the sign letters down, Stacy.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He cringed a bit at the name. Stan was never a person for confrontation, and it showed in his every action.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d told his parents twice now that he really would rather be called Stan than Stacy, and was met with laughter. He decided then that they weren’t worth telling again. They berated him when he cut his long brown locks short, being told that he was ‘a beautiful girl, and shouldn’t try to dress like that if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t want people talking.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan had had enough. He had friends that loved and respected him, and saw him as a boy. His parents gave up trying to change him, but also refused to respect any of his wishes. This resulted in some obvious tension between Stan and his parents, but they normally kept Stan's gender issues civil enough, and, moreso for his parents, completely away from Stan's extended family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he did what his dad asked, fiddling with his sleeves as he walked out of the synagogue towards their sign. A sign that read ‘Hanukkah Celebration’. Or, it was supposed to read that. Stan noticed a few letters of it were missing. Notably the R and the N of celebration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great…” Stan sighed and grabbed the letters from the sign that were left, walking back in to tell his father the news. “Hey, dad, looks like a dumb kid stole part of the sign. Didn’t change anything, just took some letters.” He said, opening the drawer that held the sign board letter sets. Of course, they wouldn’t exactly miss them, they had several sets, but it’d be a problem if it kept happening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever, Stacy, just put up the service time, just like always.” his dad responded. "And quit trying to deepen your voice, it sounds weird." He added and shook his head. Grimacing, Stan did as he was told, taking his phone out as he did so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Checking Snapchat was one of the first things the boy did, narrowing his eyes as he saw Richie’s story.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Haha, got ya, Staniel!’ The picture read, and Richie had taken a picture of his hand, holding the missing letters like they were a deck of cards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking idiot…” Stan thought. He quickly replaced the normal signage, staring at the sign.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that the next time it would change it would be for his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bat</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mitzvah. He knew that normally kids looked forward to the celebration. When it came to getting money or having a party with family or friends, why wouldn't they? Those kids weren't Stan though, who was absolutely dreading when the day came.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He popped his head back into his house only to tell his dad he was going to hang out with his friends. He didn’t receive a response before leaving, heading off towards Richie’s house. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>On the way, dark thoughts plagued the corners of his mind. When Stan thought about himself being treated as a girl, he couldn’t help the thoughts intruding. Since his  extended family will be at the party, his parents might even make him wear a dress, and force him not to wear the binder he and Bev snuck online to buy, with her name attached, not his. Everyone, save for his friends, would call him Stacy.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Stan hardly noticed his breath was on the verge of hyperventilating as he got into Richie’s house. He immediately went to the bathroom, ignoring Richie calling out to him. He quickly took his binder off, taking a few deep breaths while his ribs weren’t being constricted. After a little bit, Stan had calmed down enough to put the binder and his shirt back on, going back out to greet Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie didn't ask. He'd learned after a few too many dirty looks from Bev or Stan himself that what happened in there was between him and his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So when Stan came out of the bathroom, looking frustrated and downright pissed, Richie just offered him a cup of water with a grin, thinking none of the other's anger was directed towards him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Richie Tozier, why in the fuck did you steal the letters from our sign?" Stan annuncieted between breaths, taking a gulp of the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh shit, yeah. "No reason, Stan! Just to keep you on your toes!" He said with a broad smile. The real reason Richie took them really didn't matter to Stan </span>
  <em>
    <span>just yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, anyway. Plus it was a surprise, and who was he to spoil that for his best friend?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie guessed Stan accepted his bullshit response, because he just rolled his eyes and sat down on Richie's bed cross-legged and grabbed a comic from his nightstand, making a face at it. "These are so childish." He muttered, taking to tracing the corners of the pages, just so he gave his hands something to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Excuse you, Stanny." He began, putting a dramatic hand on his chest. "Not all of us can be so mature and into birds as you are at our age." He laughed some after, dodging the comic thrown at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They hung out, talking about whatever came to mind, as they'd done so many times before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The topic finally came up that Stan had been dreading this whole time, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bat </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mitzvah. He let Richie into his mind slightly, talking about how scared he actually was that all his extended family was going to be there and what he thinks that meant for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie always felt bad when Stan talked about his gender issues to him, mostly because he felt there was no way he could help. He could only reassure Stan that he and the rest of the Losers loved him, and that he was only ever Stan to them. He could say to hell with Stan's extended family, but he knew that wouldn't go over well. He could say to ignore it, but he couldn't relate to Stan's feelings about his gender, so he couldn't assume that that would be the right thing to say, either. So he decided on leaving it at telling Stan that the Losers are his real family, and that he'll never get rid of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan might've rolled his eyes into the next room, but Richie could still see the fond smile on his face, and that's all he needed to see to feel reassured.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually the day came, and Richie's little stunt those weeks ago was far from everyone's minds, all except Richie of course. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He was getting the stuffy blue suit his mom picked for him on, afterwards sliding the letters into his pocket. He went downstairs to meet his mom, who was already fully ready. He swatted her hands away that held a yarmulke, making a face. She glared and huffed, putting it on him in a swift motion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Richie!" she chided. "We're going to a…" she paused here, knowing what Stan would prefer, him having introduced himself to Maggie several times after he chose to be Stan. On the other hand, she knew what the celebration was going to be like. "We're going to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bat </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mitzvah, you need to dress accordingly.” She said with a sigh.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Well, maybe you’re going to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bat </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mitzvah, but I’m going to a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bar </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mitzvah.” Richie said defiantly, crossing his arms but leaving the yarmulke on his head alone.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She didn’t press as she stood up straight, brushing her hair back and smiling. “Sure, Richie, fine.” She said softly and moved to straighten his suit out, another action he tried to push off.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Richard Wentworth Tozier. You are at least going to look presentable for your friend." Maggie said and dusted off his blazer, straightening his clip-on tie. They left as Richie slung his backpack over his shoulder, excuses of his present to Stan being in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Stan was busy with just about everything. He was putting out the traditional decorations around the synagogue, half to make sure they looked right to him and half to put off changing, which is what his mother initially told him to do. After he finished with the decorations, he paused, looking out the window to the sign in front of the synagogue. He felt sick, just seeing his deadname on display for everyone who walked by, all his extended family that had no idea how he was feeling. He walked downstairs to try and help his father out with setting up the basement for the party, but one look from his father and he sent Stan away to get changed.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Angrily, Stan stomped off towards his room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” He muttered, making sure it was under his breath so his dad wouldn’t hear it.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>When he got to his room, he saw the outfit his mom picked out for him. It looked terrible. A long sleeved white </span>
  <em>
    <span>blouse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with a long black skirt. He almost appreciated that it wasn't a dress. Almost. He knew another fight would come if he kept his binder on, especially because of its visibility under the shirt. So he took a sheet, throwing it over the mirror in his room as he took off the clothes. His shirt, his pants, and his binder. He stood for just a moment, breathing deeply as he slipped on those articles that were absolutely not his. They hardly fit, in so many ways. The shirt was too tight; the skirt was too airy and open. Everything was wrong. Stan hated this. He felt tears brim in his eyes, wiping them with the back of his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood awkwardly downstairs, a frown on his face as he waited for people to arrive. He rocked on his feet, playing with the edge of his sleeves nervously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Stacy, don't play with the strings, you'll ruin your gorgeous shirt." His mother said, holding his hands for a moment. "You look beautiful." She said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For Stan, the words were bittersweet. Everything felt distant, like Stan was having an out of body experience, looking down on himself in this horrible moment. He'd give anything to just be with his friends, especially Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People began filling into the synagogue shortly after, sitting down in the pews and smiling towards Stan. Some of the people he recognized as his relatives looked confused, he knew it was because he definitely didn't look like the little girl they last saw him as. He attempted to reciprocate a friendly smile towards them, but it was awkward, even for the normally introverted boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ceremony wasn't anything special, if Stan was honest. Besides the unflattering clothes he was wearing, the strange feeling of being described as the rabbi's daughter, and his disjointed emotions, the ceremony was mostly the same no matter what gender he was. He was reading through his Torah passage, fumbling on a few words. Everyone seemed forgiving though, more forgiving than Stan was to himself, even. After the reading, he turned to his dad, a burning in his eyes and throat as he felt tears threaten to spill over again. He felt like this day couldn't go fast enough. It's not that he felt shameful of his forgetting of the passage, it had been the last thing on his mind. Instead, he felt disheartened that he wasn't going to stand up to his parents, the way he knew he should. He felt weak, even.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Thankfully, this part of the ceremony was over. Stan let out a quiet breath. A few more hours of this and it’d be done. He could take these shitty clothes off and throw them back at his parents, hopefully never seeing his dumb extended family until something else major happened.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>His dad said that they’d meet everyone downstairs for the party, which prompted everyone to begin filing out of the pews. Stan caught sight of Richie running out like a blur, raising a curious eyebrow at the other's actions. He knew Richie was a whirlwind of chaos wherever he went, but he brushed it off, hoping that Richie just had to use the bathroom or something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few moments of everyone having left the synagogue and being downstairs, Stan's father and mother led him downstairs as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost immediately, they were pulled aside by Stan's uncle, who looked rather worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"There's a child, about Stacy's age, that's messing with your sign out there, Donny." He said, frowning at Stan. "Do you know him, young lady--"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before the distant relative, who Stan couldn't even remember if he was from his dad's or his mom's family, could finish, Stan was pushing past them towards the door. He had a feeling he'd know the face he'd see out there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was totally sure no one had seen him. He was quick, and quiet. It wasn't his fault that dumb uncle of Stan's needed a cig right when he left. Richie raised his hands in defense when he saw Stan storming towards him. Stan looked pissed, and like he was going to fall in the flats his mother was making him wear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dammit, Richie, do you ever know when to stop?" Stan said, seeing an array of letters scattered around Richie's feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No, not really. It's in my nature, Stanny boy, and I can't just go against it." Richie explained, dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan was about to scold him, when he saw what Richie was changing the sign to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This morning the sign had read 'Bat Mitzvah, Stacy Uris, 7/15/89, 12-4 pm'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As of now, with a few switched letters by Richie's hand, the sign now read <span class="u">'Bar</span> Mitzvah, <span class="u">Stan</span> Uris, 7/15/89, 12-4pm.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes, knowing that it was slightly uncharacteristic. He tried to be more tough around people like Richie, trying to be more manly. He wiped his eyes with his hands quickly, a smile forming on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie returned the smile, before lighting up with a small nod. "Ah! Almost forgot, your present." He said, whipping his backpack around and opening it up. He held out some clothes for the other, and a new binder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Bev helped me pick everything out so it's all your size."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan took the clothes, clutching them close to his body before taking a step closer to his best friend, capturing Richie's lips in a soft, grateful kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie chased his mouth as he pulled back, smiling broader still when he heard Stan's next words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Richie, you're the best friend a boy could have."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two walked back to the synagogue, hand in hand. As Stan came back downstairs, in his new clothes, Richie hooted and hollered louder than any noise in the hall. He couldn't have been more proud of the person Stan was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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